


Masks

by squishyturtlefuckfics



Series: Kinktober 2019 - Squishyturtlefuckfics [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hypnosis, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Multi, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, TMNT, TMNT 2k12 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 09:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishyturtlefuckfics/pseuds/squishyturtlefuckfics
Summary: A (hopefully) daily collection of fics based on the official Kinktober 2019 prompt list (find it here: https://kinktober2019.tumblr.com/)2k12 centric. Will contain themes of violence, non-consensual/dub-consensual sex and tcest among others. I'll tag each chapter appropriately so you can skip anything you don't like.None of the days will be related to each other unless otherwise stated.EDIT: Changed this to a series rather than multichapter. Just to keep tags and whatnot tidier.





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 contains themes of non-con/dubcon, hypnosis and brainwashing.

Leonardo shifts, the dull whirr of machinery stirring his rest.

"Status report."

That... That voice...

Another voice cuts through. "Proceeding as planned. They'll be ready soon."

Movement around him. A body pressing against him, skin warm and rough. A moan. A grumble. Familiar.

"Good." The first voice cuts in again, sharp and cold. More movement, a clattering of steel and weapons, and then it speaks again: "Inform me immediately once they're ready. I expect this to work."

“Of course, Shredder.”

The first voice drifts away as it rings through the room, before vanishing entirely. Metal scrapes across the floor, and once again the room is plunged into darkness.

Leonardo cranes his neck upwards, breath raspy as it falls from his lips. S-Shredder? W-What.. was…?

“Awake?” The second voice, right in front of him. Leonardo winces as cold hands grip his shoulders, fingers kneading into his muscles, though he finds himself unable to push them off. His limbs feel like lead: heavy and numb.

The touch recedes after a few seconds, followed instead by movement above him. Hands tinkering with something hanging over his head. There’s a grumble to his left, and a pair of grunts from across the room.

Was… Was that Mikey? Raph? Donnie? Why couldn’t he see anything?

“Don’t get too comfortable, turtle.” That other voice again, somewhere above him. “You’ve had some time to rest, but there won’t be any more of that now.”

There’s more clattering above him, fingers brushing and poking at metallic switches. Leonardo wrinkles his beak, wincing again at the cold, metallic object pressed against his face, trying to steady his spinning mind. W-Where… What was going on?

“You’ll be under for a long while now. Just relax. You’ll enjoy it.”

_Click._

The machines above him sputter and purr, and the darkness around him melts away into an array of colour. Leonardo stiffens, mind quickly falling silent to the barrage of twisting spirals of rainbow that consume his vision.

H...He… W-What…?

Light movement around him. Footsteps fading into the background.

C-Can’t… Can’t think….

Something slipping down over his ears, drowning everything else out. A voice. Sound. A gentle hum.

D-Dizzy… He… He’s… Spinning...

Just… Just…

_ **“Obey.”** _

* * *

  
“Are they ready yet?”

The three of them slink into the room after him. Stockman smirks, turning as he slides the door shut behind them.

“Not yet,” he says, nodding at Bradford, “but it won’t be long.”

The mutant snorts. Stockman pads past them, eyes darting between each of his subjects. Neatly restrained. All of them still and quiet. Perfect. Such perfect subjects.

“I figure a few more days at the most,” he continues, grabbing a half-empty bottle of warm water from his desk. “Just long enough to really get into their heads. Let the programming work.”

He brushes past Tiger Claw, stopping near Leonardo’s still body. He’s tied down to a steel chair, wires coiled around his body. A thick, alien-looking mask rests on his face. It’s wide, large enough to loop around and secure behind his head, leaving only his mouth clear and free. The glass-like display on the mask shimmers with light, bright and swirling, occluding the facial features behind it. A quick glance upwards at a screen, then to all the others in the room. Vitals were fine. Things were progressing as planned.

Unscrewing the bottle, Stockman kneels down and presses the rim to Leonardo’s lips, letting the tepid liquid splash down his throat. Leonardo swallows it without issue, and Stockman waits just a second for any ill effects. Any signs of failure.

None.

“What are you doing to them?” Tigerclaw says from behind him, eyeing Leonardo warily.  
  
Stockman turns as he stands, pushing his glasses up his face as he moves over to Donatello.

“It’s a programming loop: something I designed with that Kraang technology,” he says simply, stopping to squeeze Donatello’s body, testing for any unwanted reactions. “Shredder doesn’t want them dead, as much as I disagree.”

He kneels once more, offering Donatello the same water he’d given Leonardo. He watches it flow from the bottle, making sure to give him a little more than his brother before rising.

“Then he wants them loyal,” Xever says, turning to face the other two: Michelangelo and Raphael. “Like obedient animals.”

“Precisely.”

There’s a pause as Stockman examines Donatello, carefully watching the spiralling colours flashing over the mask. Placing the bottle down, he slowly lifts the mask up, watching Donatello’s face, the programming automatically pausing. Eyes glassy and dull, expression slack and lost. It was definitely working.

“We’ll wipe their memories, at least the parts we have no use for.” Stockman notes aloud. “Plant some false ones. Twist their thoughts and emotions for our gain. They’ll be entirely loyal, yet heartless monsters. Perfect for Shredder’s little army.”

He gently grabs the turtle’s cheeks, running a thumb over his face. No reaction. No eye movement.

Pressing his thumb against his lips. Nothing.

Perfect.

“And what about us?” Bradford pushes past the others, towering above him expectantly.

Stockman smirks, not taking his eyes off of Donatello.

“Of course. Shredder gave me permission.” Stockman pushes his thumb in, giddy as Donatello’s tongue automatically moves toward the digit. “Each of them will be obedient to him, but also to us, and we can do whatever we want to them when they’re not training.”

A collective grunt of approval. Stockman beams, heart thumping as he reaches down to Donatello’s legs. Groping at his thighs, kneading around his groin. Within only seconds he watches Donatello’s cock press out of its slit, quickly hardening as he takes hold of it. That side of things was already working.

“_Good_…” he murmurs, glancing up at Donatello’s empty expression. His stomach swoops, groin stirring. Soon… Very soon.

He rises, lowering the mask back down over Donatello’s face, waiting for it to click and whirr back to life before turning to the three mutants behind him, all of them already getting familiar with their chosen turtle.

_Perfect_. Everything was going perfectly.


End file.
